


We Found Love in a Dairy Queen

by m_writes



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Non hockey au, well tyson's version of a coffee shop au anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_writes/pseuds/m_writes
Summary: Ignoring him entirely, Nate snapped and pointed at Tyson. “I’ve got it! I’ve figured it out. The perfect way to destress.”Tyson rolled his eyes, fixing Nate with a flat look. “And what might that be.”Nate grinned, triumphant. “You need to get laid.”Or, Nate acts as the world's worst (best?) wingman for Tyson. In a Dairy Queen.





	We Found Love in a Dairy Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic last October, when venvephe and I were trying to work our way through a fic bingo card we made to warm up for NaNo. I'm only four months late, it's fine...
> 
> Completed for the "coffee shop au" square on that card, even though a coffee shop isn't even mentioned in this story. It's close enough.
> 
> Thank you venvephe, for cheering me on and laughing with me at the shitty DQ signs I found while doing very important "research" for this fic. You're the absolute best :')

“This is a terrible idea.”

Tyson rolled his eyes, throwing his truck into reverse and peeling out of his parking spot. “Fuck off, Nathaniel. No one asked you.”

“You did, though,” Nate insisted from the passenger seat, unfazed as Tyson swerved through traffic. “You said, ‘Nate, should I drown myself in ice cream?’ And I said, ‘No, Tyson, the trainers will kill you,’ and then you ignored me and got in your truck.”

“You should know by now that ice cream questions are always rhetorical.”

“ _You_ should know by now that the Blizzard you’re about to eat now won’t be worth the bag skates you have to do tomorrow morning.”

Tyson scowled, putting more pressure on the accelerator and ignoring Nate’s heavy sigh. Nate didn’t understand. Tyson _needed_ this. The stress of juggling playoff hockey, the impending end of the semester, and what do do about the NHL draft was starting to get to him. It was easy for Nate - he was Denver’s golden boy, the star player, a guaranteed spot on the Pens with his new bff _Crosby_ waiting for him in June. Tyson had… nothing. Everything was up in the air. Nothing was certain, for him.

Nothing except ice cream.

The Dairy Queen at the corner of Eliot and Almeda was like a lighthouse, calling the battered ship of his soul to harbour. He had found this DQ his freshman year, when he was still reeling from moving from tiny Victoria, BC to the bustling metropolis of Denver, in the midst of his first “what am I doing here what have I done oh god” crisis. He’d found bliss at the bottom of a large Blizzard with extra cookie dough, and from that point on he’d never met a problem that couldn’t be solved by a quick trip to DQ.

And he’d certainly had a lot of them. Crises, that is. Which he supposed also meant trips to DQ. Was it normal for fast food employees to know your order? Whatever. It was normal for him.

Tyson pulled into his usual parking spot, careful to avoid the pothole just to the left of it, and turned off the engine with a dramatic flourish.

“You need to-” Tyson jumped out of his truck and slammed his door, effectively cutting Nate off. Nate, unfortunately, was undeterred. “You need to find other ways to lay off steam.”

Tyson powerwalked to the door. “Don’t blaspheme right outside church,” he called over his shoulder. “This Dairy Queen has literally saved my life.”

Nate jogged ahead, falling into stride with him. “One, I think you need to learn what hyperbole is. Two, there _have_ to be other ways to de-stress. Healthier ways that aren’t like. A thousand calories and a stitch in your side at practice.”

“What could be better than this?” Tyson exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the old fashioned marquee board outside the restaurant. Today it proclaimed “Game of Cones: Summer is Coming.”

“So many things,” Nate insisted, glancing at the sign with a pained expression. “So many things could be better than this.”

Tyson decided to ignore that comment. “Come on,” he said, pushing the door open and pausing so that Nate could follow him. “Erik is working today, and you know he always gives me extra cookie dough for free.”

Nate sighed, finally resigned to the fact that this was (obviously) happening whether he liked it or not, and shouldered through the door. Tyson grinned at him brightly and elbowed his arm.

“You’re wrong, anyway. This is a perfectly good coping mechanism. Nothing can calm me down better than a perfectly blended Blizzard.”

Nate gave Tyson a flat look. “Nothing? Really nothing? Yoga. Video games. Talking a nice walk through campus.”

Tyson snorted as he walked up to the counter. There wasn’t anyone behind the register, but he could hear someone rummaging around at the back of the kitchen.

“Hello?” he called, craning his neck to look for the person.

“Just a second,” an unfamiliar voice called back. Tyson frowned slightly and checked his watch for the date. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant that Erik was supposed to be working - maybe Colin, if Erik had a horse show or whatever to go to. But this voice didn’t sound like either of them, which unnerved Tyson. He didn’t like change, especially as it pertained to such an important fixture in his life as this particular Dairy Queen, and he was immediately wary of the unknown man behind the counter.

“We haven’t been out drinking in awhile,” Nate mused, still insisting on suggesting inferior coping mechanisms. “Maybe we need to get you really shitfaced.”

Tyson scoffed. “I don’t need to get shitfaced or go for a fucking walk or anything, Nate. I’m doing just fine with the solutions I already have.

Ignoring him entirely, Nate snapped and pointed at Tyson. “I’ve got it! I’ve figured it out. The perfect way to destress.”

Tyson rolled his eyes, fixing Nate with a flat look. “And what might that be.” 

Nate grinned, triumphant. “You need to get _laid_.”

“Uh… welcome to Dairy Queen?”

Nate and Tyson both startled, turning quickly to face the DQ employee that had appeared at some point during their argument. Tyson desperately hoped he hadn’t heard Nate’s last comment, but judging by the faint pink tint of the man’s cheeks, he guessed his hope was in vain. Then he took a moment to take in the man’s face, and Tyson realized that he was so, completely fucked.

He was currently face to face with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his entire life. The blush that dusted the man’s cheeks sat atop high cheekbones, perfect bone structure that complimented his perfect jawline. He had a reddish blonde beard that was the ideal middle ground between patchy stubble and caveman, and his eyes were a clear, crisp blue. Dimly, Tyson registered that he was probably staring - nope, definitely staring, given the concerned furrow of the man’s eyebrows, and almost definitely looking a little creepy, too. He needed to stop staring and say something. Preferably something cool and suave, to counteract the embarrassing situation the beautiful man had stumbled into. He opened his mouth, ready to whip out a witty comment.

“Guh,” was what came out instead, making the man’s brow furrow further.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyson saw Nate look back and forth between the two of them. Unfortunately, Nate was an attentive and intuitive best friend, which meant that he was undoubtedly acutely aware of the bisexual meltdown Tyson was currently going through. His suspicion was confirmed when Nate let out a sharp, delighted laugh and elbowed him.

“Tyson,” he said gleefully, his unfettered enthusiasm making his lisp even more pronounced, “who is _this_?”

“I don’t know,” Tyson said faintly. His eyes flicked down to the nametag on the man’s chest. “Uh… Gabe, I guess.”

Gabe’s eyes widened in surprise before he looked down at his nametag, startled, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing it. “Oh yeah. I’m new. Sorry. Do you… do you come here often?”

 _Oh my god_ , Tyson thought weakly. He knew that Gabe had probably meant it to be an innocent comment, and not a pickup line, but his brain short circuited anyway. Nate literally _cackled_.

“Oh man. ‘Does he come here often.’ Oh buddy. You’re currently looking at the man who single-handedly keeps this place in business.”

Tyson shot him a dark look, which was probably rendered ineffective by the way he felt his face burning.

“What was that you were just saying about hyperbole?” he murmured. He’d been aiming for vaguely menacing, but Nate was clearly feeding off of his embarrassment. There was no sign of the reluctance he’d shown in the truck. He had a look in his eye that Tyson only saw when he came up with the perfect goal-scoring play, or when he wanted to pull a prank on Mikko, and Tyson panicked. 

“You know what, Nate, maybe we should-“

“Say, Gabe.” Nate interrupted him smoothly, turning to face their poor cashier with a misleading nonchalance. “Maybe you can help us out. I was just talking to my buddy Tyson here about healthy coping mechanisms. Care to weigh in?”

The pink on Gabe’s cheeks deepened into a dull crimson. Half of Tyson’s brain registered the fact that the flush made him look, somehow, both sexier and more adorable. The other half of his brain was plotting Nate’s murder.

“Uh…” Gabe said, his eyes darting back and forth between them like a trapped animal.

“You don’t have to answer,” Tyson blurted. “We were just leaving anyway. Nate, you were right, let’s just-”

Nate dodged the hand Tyson tried to put on his elbow neatly. “As much as I want to lord that over your head for the rest of our lives, I’m going to have to change my mind here. I will admit that it might be possible that extra cookie dough Blizzards are a better coping mechanism than sex. But I need a second opinion.” He pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger in mock contemplation and turned to Gabe. “Thoughts?”

“Oh my god,” Tyson whispered, mortified. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Who gave a shit about finals, or the Frozen Four, or the fucking NHL. He wanted one of those Floridian sinkholes to open up under him and take him away from this situation immediately.

“It’s a very important question, you see.”  Nate continued talking to Gabe as if he didn’t notice Gabe’s growing mortification. “Tyson here insists on running into Dairy Queen’s arms every time he has a problem. But _I_ think he would be better served to run into the arms of a handsome stranger. So you’re the tiebreaker. What do you think?”

Tyson buried his burning face in his hands. His embarrassment didn’t make a difference. This Gabe dude was going to report them for sexual harassment and he wouldn’t be allowed within fifty feet of this DQ even if he _wanted_ to come back. Dragging his hands down his face, he waited miserably for Gabe’s response.

“I-” Gabe swallowed, his eyes darting back and forth between him and Nate before landing on Tyson. “I don’t know, man,” he said, a little helplessly, “it’s just ice cream.”

“Ha ha!” Nate cheered in triumph as Tyson’s internal operating system stalled and crashed. “You see! Even this fine DQ connoisseur agrees." 

“I hate you,” Tyson said weakly, “so much.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, baby,” Nate fake-cooed, laughing and giving Tyson a facewash. Tyson slapped his hand away and turned to Gabe, ready to apologize profusely for this whole encounter, but the look on Gabe’s face gave him pause. He was still adorably pink, but rather than looking scandalized, as Tyson expected, he looked a little… crestfallen?

“Oh!” Gabe’s voice was infused with a brightness that didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you two…?”

“No!” Tyson yelped quickly. He cleared his throat, ignoring Gabe’s taken aback expression and Nate’s smug one. Tyson may have embarrassed himself beyond all possible hope, but it was still _very important_ to him that this insanely attractive DQ employee knew that he and Nate weren’t dating. “No, no no no, we’re just friends. Teammates. Acquaintances, if you will.”

“I know,” Gabe said, startling them both. He coughed, a little sheepishly, before speaking again. “I mean, I know you’re teammates. Denver hockey, right? I’m, uh… I’m a fan.” Gabe’s blush, which had started to fade somewhat, came back in full force, and Tyson thought to himself, _I’m done for._

“Oh yeah?” His voice was high-pitched, and a little strangled, but Tyson managed to choke out the words before his brain stalled again.

“Yeah,” Gabe responded quietly, a shy half smile on his face.

An awkward silence descended over them. Now that Nate was finished embarrassing Tyson, he was decidedly less talkative, the traitor. Tyson cleared his throat - several times - trying to get the courage to say what he wanted to say. Better to just go for it. Get it out there.

“Would you- skating?” Tyson blurted. Okay, maybe that wasn't better.

Gabe’s eyes went a little wide, and Tyson tried desperately to save himself. Unfortunately, his brain was still stalling in the most self-destructive way possible. “Uh- skating. With me. Do you skate? We could skate. If you like it. Like skating, that is. Oh jesus christ.” He groaned at himself, hiding his face behind his hands again like the pathetic coward he was.

He sat there, stewing in his embarrassment, unable to bring himself to look at Gabe’s face. Beside him, he could practically feel Nate vibrating with barely concealed laughter at his expense.

“Never mind,” Tyson said finally, after a few moments behind the shield of his hands had done nothing to help his mortification. “Sorry to bother you. I’m just going to - go, now.” He waited until he’d turned away from the counter to lower his hands, ready to high-tail it out of the restaurant. He needed to get away from the site of his greatest embarrassment as possible. He was going to walk to his truck and drive far, far away from this place, out of Denver and possibly right into the Pacific Ocean. He managed a few quick steps before a voice stopped him.

“Wait!”

Tyson froze. He was hallucinating. He had to be. There was no way - but no, when Tyson turned back around, there was Gabe, arm outstretched as if he’d been reaching to physically stop him. His face was still redder than anything, but he’d managed a small grin, somehow so bright it managed to literally take Tyson’s breath away.

“Skating would be great,” Gabe said, voice soft but confident. “Skating would be… really really great.”

Tyson remained frozen for a half a second before jerking himself into action and quickly making his way back over to the counter. “Really! That’s great! I mean,” he stammered as Gabe let out a soft laugh, “that would be cool. It would be… great.”

Tyson wondered if his own grin looked as silly as Gabe’s. He figured it probably did, and he didn’t even care. He was still blown away by the fact that he’d been able to salvage this situation so exceptionally.

Gabe bit his lip. “I’m free Sunday morning? If that’s okay - I know you have a game Saturday -”

“Sunday’s great!” Tyson interrupted, making them both laugh. He couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s a date.”

“A great skate date,” Gabe teased, flirting even as he was still blushing. Holy shit. Tyson had never stood a chance.

***

A few minutes later, Tyson walked out of the restaurant, feeling weightless and triumphant even though he could practically feel Nate’s smug smirk on him.

“This Blizzard is the best thing ever to happen to me,” Tyson proclaimed, gesturing proudly to where Gabe had written his number on the side of the cup. “That’s not even hyperbole. I mean it. Truly nothing could be better than this Blizzard.”

Nate barked out a laugh. “Really, dude? After everything we just went through? You’re going on a date with Thor’s hotter younger brother this weekend and you’re still trying to say that _nothing_ could be better than that Blizzard?”

“Fuck _off_ Nathaniel!” Tyson shoved him, careful to protect his Blizzard as he did so. “I mean it! This Blizzard cured my anxiety, got me a date, _and_ it has the hottest guy in the world’s number on it. Tell me one thing that beats that trifecta. _One_.”

“I can think of a few things,” Nate said, leaning into Tyson’s space and waggling his eyebrows. “And I think you’re going to think of a few things too, after your _great skate date_ with Gabe on Sunday.”

Tyson just rolled his eyes and got back in his truck, ignoring Nate’s cackling laughter. He would never in a million years admit it to anyone, least of all his terrible (and wonderful) best friend, but as he thought about what lay ahead of him this weekend, he had to admit to himself that, for once, Nate was absolutely right.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr as jamiebengal14
> 
> on twitter as m_writes55
> 
> come talk to me! :)


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